


i'll be just fine

by cryingintheclub



Series: words I never said [3]
Category: Australian Rules Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, i guess, im projecting how much i miss these two into this fic, its so self-indulgent im sorry, lowkey spoiling whoops, with a happy ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingintheclub/pseuds/cryingintheclub
Summary: Marc's journey of heart ache and self-discovery during the 2018 premiership season





	i'll be just fine

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this two weeks ago and have obsessed with it ever since. this should be the last instalment of this series (unless I change my mind)

It had been eight months since Bryce left. Eight, long, hard months of Marc ignoring Bryce’s calls and texts until Bryce finally got the message two months in and stopped. Marc had tried to get Bryce out of his mind and redirected his energy into preseason training, running his guts out until he felt sick or until he was close to collapsing due to exhaustion. 

And it paid off. The media had been singing his praises, prattling on about his leadership skills and how he was going to take the club in the right direction. Marc knew that would last until Carlton lost, and suddenly the tables would turn and the media would crucify him, using him as a scapegoat just because he was the captain of the club. Captains couldn’t have bad games.

Suddenly it was round seven, and surprise surprise, Carlton hadn’t won a game and the footballing world was against them; journalists were criticizing the coach, players and gameplans, fans were hurling abuse on social media. Now the journalists were writing stories about how Bryce Gibbs was facing his old side for the first time since his trade in October last year, and the whirlwind of emotions Marc had buried over the last eight months came rushing back.

Marc hadn’t been in the team for the last few weeks due to illness, but he was recovered but still not able to play. The criticism from the outside had taken a toll on the younger players, especially the first year’s; Paddy Dow and Lochie O’Brien looked like they wanted to belch every time a journalist hovered outside Ikon Park or whenever they were brave enough to look on social media. So Marc, being the captain of the club, volunteered to make the journey over to Adelaide with the boys as a way to boost morale and to help the first year’s.

It seemed like a good idea at the time; it was better than sitting at home wallowing in self-pity as he watched the game fold out, his heart clenching whenever he saw Bryce’s face on the screen. Inside the coach’s box, he could distract himself with gameplans and tactics and scribbling down notes whenever a player made an error. But as he sat in his car in the carpark of the domestic terminal at Tullamarine, all he wanted to do was turn back around and head home and wallow in self-pity into a tub of ice-cream.

A knocking sound on Marc’s window had him look up to see Kade Simpson peering through the glass with a concerned expression on his face.

“You okay?” he asked, dressed in his standard club polo and shorts.

“Yeah, just checking to see I brought everything.” Marc tried to sound light and gave Simmo an unconvincing smile as he opened up the door and got out on shaky legs.

Simmo looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press the matter any further.

Marc knew what everybody was thinking. They all thought that Marc was heartbroken over Bryce leaving, and not just because he was going to miss a mate.

No one had explicitly said it, but they knew Marc and Bryce were involved. After Marc had been on the end of one too many pitying glances, he caught on. But his performance hadn’t slipped and to the outside world, it looked like nothing was wrong, so nobody said anything about Bryce.

Simmo and Marc walked in silence to the airport, Marc too tired to start a conversation and Simmo sensing that Marc didn’t feel like talking. Marc was thankful that Simmo was so intuitive because he didn’t have the energy or willpower to make small talk and inevitably lie about how he was feeling.

As Marc and Simmo walked past the automatic doors of Tullamarine, Marc could see that the majority of the team were already waiting, standing around with their bags and suitcases placed in a messy circle.

Marc couldn’t see any journalists circling around hawkishly, which he was grateful for. He didn’t particularly feel up to chatting with a journo about what it felt like to be playing against an ex-teammate when all he wanted to do was to not think about said ex-teammate.

Marc checked his bag in, went through security and boarded the plane in a haze, trapped in his own head as the dread set in. Marc would be seeing Bryce for the first time since he left. He was grateful that he was still out, as the thought of being on the field with Bryce made him feel physically sick.

Marc slid into the window seat, furthest away from the aisle. Bolts was adamant that everybody sat in their assigned seats. He was a sucker for team bonding and boosting team morale. Marc just hoped whoever the two teammates were sitting next to him didn’t try and make small talk with him for the hour and a half in the air.

Jonesy slipped in beside Marc, getting the despised middle seat, squished up against Marc and whoever got the aisle seat. For Jonesy’s sake, Marc hoped that any of the big guys like Kreuz or Casboult were not allocated the aisle seat. He gave Marc a small nod before scrolling through social media on his phone. Marc too went back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, liking photos halfheartedly without even closely looking at them.

Flight attendants started to walk down the aisles, letting passengers know that soon the plane would be taking off. Marc put his phone on aeroplane mode and shoved it into his pocket. He noticed that Jonesy had a small smile on his face as he replied to a message on his phone. As Jonesy slid his phone into his pocket, Marc caught Paddy Kerr’s name on the screen before it went black.

Marc settled into his seat as the flight attendants went through the airline’s standard safety protocol. He couldn’t concentrate on the demonstration as his mind wandered from gameplans to tactics to eventually Bryce. Everything about this game lead back to Bryce. He looked out the window, trying to distract himself with the shadows the setting sun had created on the tarmac as a way to think about anything but how it was going to be another long, cold and restless night as he woke up in the middle of the night gasping, the left side of his chest aching with the image of Bryce’s bright smile.

Jonesy and Lochie O’Brien - one of the first year’s - started to make small talk about the upcoming game. Jonesy, being a veteran of the sorts between the two, was trying to ease the kid’s nerves. It was also Marc’s duty as the captain to provide encouragement to the young kids, but he was too tired and drained to form a sentence, so he let Jonesy and Lochie’s conversation drown out as he slipped on his headphones and shuffled the first playlist to come up on his Spotify account.

 

**⏤**

 

Marc cursed as he ended up in the same corridor he walked out of five minutes ago. He needed to be at the coach’s box… ten minutes ago, according to his watch. Marc cursed and headed down the first corridor he saw, hoping to catch a member of Adelaide Oval’s security team who could redirect him to where he needed to be.

Walking down the dark and slightly claustrophobic corridors, Marc saw a flash of red, yellow and blue coming towards him. His heart dropped as he realised who it was. Looking into those familiar blue-green eyes sucked Marc right back in, to where he was eight months ago when the trade had been finalised and Marc saw Bryce for the last time, kicking him out of his house and putting an end to over a decade’s worth of whatever the hell they were.

Marc saw the uncertainty in Bryce’s eyes as he abruptly stopped, leaving a healthy amount of distance between the pair. Neither dared to speak, but Marc didn’t think he would be able to, not when the left side of his chest was screaming in agony at the sight of Bryce, bringing back the turbulent events of the last year and a half, when Marc heard for the first time back in 2016 that Bryce had requested a trade.

“Hey.” Hearing Bryce speak so gently, so  _ softly _ made Marc want to punch him. How  _ dare _ he speak to Marc like nothing had happened, like they were just friends, like Bryce didn’t rip his heart out when he told Marc he was leaving. It made Marc want to hit him; how could he sound so normal, so unaffected when Marc’s heart was breaking right in front of him all over again?

Bryce’s face dropped as Marc didn’t respond, something akin to regret schooling his features as the silence from Marc just continued on and on. It made Marc feel a sliver of satisfaction to know that Bryce knew he stuffed up, that they couldn’t go back to being mates and forget about their history over the last decade. And Bryce  _ knew _ that, he knew Marc better than Marc knew himself. He  _ knew _ what Marc was like; he knew that Marc wore his heart on his sleeve and he fell deeply and crashed hard when it came to being in love and yet Bryce was acting as though everything that happened between them could be swept under a rug and forgotten about.

The feeling of wanting to punch Bryce came back again in hot, surging waves, and his facial expression must’ve given it away as Bryce put his hands out in front of him, almost placating Marc.

“You look good,” Bryce said, cracking a small smile but his eyes pleading with Marc to cooperate with him.

“Don’t you dare. You don’t get to say that to me. Not after everything,” Marc hissed, his emotions getting the better of him as voice trembled, everything he had buried regarding Bryce coming back up, ready to erupt.

Bryce’s eyes flashed with regret again, swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Marc…” his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Whether it was because he didn’t know what to say or he was afraid whatever he said would set Marc off again, Marc didn’t know.

Marc never got to respond, as another person walked down the corridor, dressed in blue, red and yellow. “Gibbsy, there you are! We were looking for you..”

Marc didn’t bother sticking around to see who it was as he turned around and walked out of the corridor, leaving Bryce and everything they had behind.

  

**⏤**

 

The game ended in another loss. The Crows song blared out through the speakers all around the ground, making his despondent teammates feel claustrophobic as they were slapped in the face with yet another loss. Hearing the opposition’s team song after a loss was one of the worst things about losing, and Marc had heard the opposition’s team songs one too many times these last few years.

From the coaches box, Marc could see everything. He saw the way his teammates had their heads down in shame, dragging their feet across the ground, their body aching from the brutal beating. He couldn’t help but drag his eyes over to Bryce, who was huddled with his teammates but kept sneaking glances over at his former side when he thought nobody was looking. It hurt to see that Bryce still cared about his former club and that his decision to leave hadn’t been easy.

As Bryce looked over his shoulder for the fifth time, one of his Crows teammates stood in the way, blocking out Bryce’s ex-teammate and standing too close to Bryce for Marc’s liking, his hand placed too close to Bryce’s backside to just be a teammate.

Marc’s stomach coiled seeing that Bryce had moved on already, replacing Marc with a new teammate, a younger teammate. Marc was sure that was Paul Seedsman, looking up at Bryce with a boyish grin, relishing in another victory and subtly placing a barrier between Bryce and his old club.

Marc was angry. Not at the fact that Bryce was with somebody else, but at the fact that he had moved on, had gotten over Marc whereas Bryce consumed all of Marc’s thoughts, the phantom ache in his chest keeping him awake at night.

Marc wanted to move on, to not have his chest aching every time he thought about Bryce or every time Bryce’s name was mentioned. He wanted to look at a photo of Bryce and not feel his heart break. He wanted to watch one of Bryce’s matches on the television and not have to turn it off, the pain of what they used to be too unbearable.

How was it that Marc was all choked up and Bryce was okay?

 

**⏤**

 

The rest of the season passed by in a blur, the cold weather nearing the end as the last round of the season crept up. The season would wrap up for the ten teams who had not made the eight as the footy world watched eagerly to see which teams would rise to the occasion in September and which teams would crumble. Marc had his bets - and hopes - on the Eagles. He couldn’t stand the thought of Richmond or Collingwood winning. The rivalry, the hatred, settled deep in his bones, bitterness on the edge of his tongue.

Seeing that Carlton were taking on the Crows again made Marc feel sick. He felt even sicker knowing that he was going to be on the field with Bryce, most likely playing  _ on _ Bryce at some stage.

Fortunately, the media coverage surrounding the Blues and Crows game had been played down. Seeing Bryce Gibbs playing against his old side had lost its appeal after May, and Marc was grateful to not have Bryce’s face plastered in the sport’s section of the newspaper, surrounded by his Crows teammates.

Dread seeped into his bones as he got off the team bus in the carpark of Etihad Stadium. Marc had spent the day doing anything to not think about the game, going over to his parent’s house for lunch. His parents knew what he was doing, but they didn’t say anything as they talked about anything but the game, from the weather down to Marc’s plans for the offseason.

(Not that he had any, but admitting that out loud sounded pathetic and sad).

Everything before stepping out onto the ground for pre-game warmups spun past in a blur. It was as though Marc was walking in a haze, and until he saw Bryce warming up with his teammates on the opposite side of the ground did everything come into focus again.

Marc told himself that he would focus on nothing but the match. He needed to perform, he needed to rise to the occasion, to ignite a spark for his teammates. It was  _ his _ role as captain to do that, not Crippa. The phantom feeling of the weight of the captain’s role weighed heavily on his back.

Even though being captain was never really in his sights, it was a privilege to be a leader of a club as illustrious as Carlton. Being in the same category as some of the greats such as John Nicholls, Alex Jesaulenko, Mike Fitzpatrick and more recently Chris Judd was something to be proud of. But taking over Chris Judd was a difficult task. Even though he and Juddy had many chats regarding the captaincy when Juddy had decided to step down, it was still surreal and frightening when it was publicly announced that he was the next captain of the Blues.

The night that it was official that Marc was the newest captain, Bryce had driven straight over to Marc’s, greeting him with that familiar and comforting smile and looking at him as though Marc was the only person in the world.

Looking back at it now, Marc and Bryce were more than friends and more than friends with benefits. They were in love without even knowing it. All those lingering looks, those long hugs out on the ground, those over-friendly house visits; it all amounted to something more than the two of them were ever willing to admit.

And when Marc had realised, it was too late.

A tight, but comforting squeeze to the back of the shoulder brought Marc back to reality. Without even having to turn around, he murmured, “I’m fine.”

“You will be,” Simmo simply said, agreeing. He removed his hand from Marc’s shoulder and brushed past Marc onto the ground, underneath the beaming floodlights and covered roof of the Etihad.

_ He would be. Eventually. _

 

  **⏤**

 

The match had been catastrophic. It was worse than Adelaide back in May. The 104 point loss solidified Carlton’s position as the wooden spooners for the second time in four seasons. Bryce had played well, really well. Marc felt lousy with his twenty-odd disposal performance. He knew he needed to rise up to the occasion, to set an example for the team, but instead it was left to Crippa, was outstanding yet again with thirty-seven disposals. Marc knew the club would be in good hands with him and Docherty as co-captains.

Marc went around and shook the Crows players’ hands, having a few words with Eddie Betts and Sam Jacobs, ex-teammates of his. He passed Mitch McGovern, shaking his hand and congratulating him a good game. The younger McGovern would be a handy pick up for the Blues, and Marc hoped to see him in the navy blue next year.

Finishing up with McGovern, Marc turned to be faced with familiar green-blue eyes. Bryce offered him a sheepish grin as he stuck out his hand hesitantly. Not wanting journos to start making waves, Marc took Bryce’s hand.

“Good game,” Bryce said, trying to make conversation.

“Not good enough.” Marc looked back to the big screen.

Something flashed in Bryce’s face, but it disappeared before Marc could register what it was. “Do you want to grab a drink? We're not planning to leave Melbourne for a few days, with not making finals and all.” Bryce looked hopeful, almost giving Marc his puppy dog eyes that would make Marc yield almost instantaneously.

Marc thought he would have said yes, if it wasn’t for Paul Seedsman’s annoying presence behind Bryce, watching him carefully with his arms crossed.

“No,” Marc finally said and watched Bryce’s face morph into disappointment before he hid his disappointment behind a sad smile.

“I understand,” he said, not sadly, but almost wistfully. “One day I hope we can go back to how we once were.”

“You know that will never happen.” Marc gave Bryce a sympathetic smile. The two could never go back to the way they used to be. The day the trade was finalised had changed everything.

It was bittersweet watching Bryce go and rejoin his teammates. He couldn’t help but watch as Paul beelined for Bryce, standing too close to Bryce to be just teammates. But Bryce subtly stepped aside, creating some space between himself and Paul.

So Bryce hadn’t moved on like Marc originally thought. Although he still felt something for Marc, what they had was over. As Bryce caught Marc looking over, he gave Marc a small, inconspicuous smile. Marc’s chest hurt less than it had in nearly a year. Maybe speaking to Bryce was what he needed. Maybe with this closure, Marc would well and truly move on. Maybe when Marc had moved on, the two could be friends. Despite everything, Bryce was a good guy and had been there for Marc for a big part of his life. 

As he walked off the field alongside his teammates, his conversation with Simmo played over in his head. 

_ I’m fine. _

_ You will be. _

He would be. Eventually.

 

**⏤**

 

Marc found himself sitting at the ‘G, amongst the thousands of fans who had flocked from across the country to witness the grand final between the Eagles and the Magpies.

Marc didn’t know what compelled him to buy a ticket to the game, but supposed it had something to do with wanting to watch the Eagles swipe the Magpies off their feet. It was the rivalry that pumped in his veins, wanting  _ desperately _ to see the old foe fall, to see them slip up on the big stage.

So when the final siren rang, Marc, along with the other thousands of spectators who were rooting for the Eagles, jumped for joy at seeing Collingwood fail. Marc clutched the Eagles scarf tightly around his neck as he made his way over to the fence, embracing Luke Shuey as he walked over to the fence with his premiership teammates to celebrate with the fans.

He and Luke Shuey weren’t particularly close, but Marc was giddy with excitement at seeing the Magpies choke and couldn't help but celebrate with him.

Amongst the celebrations, Marc spotted Bryce. The man bun was gone, reminding Marc of simpler times, back when Bryce was still at Carlton and back when Carlton had a chance of making finals. Overall, Bryce looked good and appeared to be much happier than he was when they had met a month ago at the Etihad.

(That could have been due to the bliss of witnessing the Magpies lose, the ten years at Carlton resulting in the hatred for Collingwood to settle deep into his bones, probably staying with him forever).

Marc hadn’t realised how close Bryce had gotten until after Luke, Bryce and Marc celebrated and the players from both teams had made their way down into the rooms, both to do completely different things; the Eagles would resume celebrations while the Magpies would rue about missed opportunities. 

Shuey had invited Marc and Bryce down to the changerooms, but Marc shook his head; it felt foreign being in a room that wasn’t his team’s. Bryce agreed, saying that being in an Eagles scarf was enough for one day.

“What a day,” Bryce said, scanning the ground, which was covered with yellow and blue confetti. Marc wished that one day he would be standing on the ‘G holding the premiership cup with navy blue and white confetti littering the ground. He had always hoped that Bryce would be there beside him, holding up the premiership cup with him, but that chapter had closed the minute Bryce signed the deal with the Crows.

Deep down, Marc knew that his window to win a premiership with the Blues was most likely over, but he hoped that he could build the foundations for the younger players to win a premiership. He hoped that one day he would be back at the ‘G and see his old teammates with premiership medals around their neck and Crippa and Doc holding up the premiership cup together.

Marc nodded his head, agreeing. It had been a day, but grand final day was always massive, even if your team wasn’t competing.

“I could really use a drink,” Marc found himself saying. He couldn’t help but smile, especially with how the day had played out. He might regret it tomorrow, but asking Bryce out for a drink just felt right, despite everything that had happened in the last year. 

Bryce’s face lit up. “I know just the place.”

Marc and Bryce may not be able to go back to how things used to be, but they could try to be friends. Because if Marc couldn’t have Bryce in his arms, he would want to have Bryce in his life, even if it wasn’t the exactly the way he wanted it to be.

As Marc laughed at Bryce's foam moustache from his second beer, without his chest aching, he knew he would be fine. It was going to be a slow process, but he would get through it. 

As they say, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. 

**Author's Note:**

> in case you didn't know:   
> "bolts" - brendon bolton  
> "jonesy" - liam jones  
> "crippa" - patrick cripps  
> "doc" - sam docherty
> 
> marc and bryce actually attended the 2018 grand final together supporting the Eagles :,)


End file.
